Sad Wings of Destiny
by TheMack
Summary: A violent memory from the past haunts Logan. Will he let Jean help? Sequel to Beneath the Silence. R/R if you'd like...


Disclaimer: As a matter of fact, I do own the X-Men. Jack Kirby said I could have them. I swear it's true. Just ask Frank Miller and Todd McFarlane. I just write fan fiction for the hell of it... oh, shit the lawyers are already banging on the door. Damn, can't Marvel take a joke...  
  
NOTE: This story is a sequel to "Beneath the Silence". That story took place between Uncanny X-Men #110 and #111 both of which came out back in 1978. Parts of this story flashback to Peru in the early 1980s (circa 81-82). So I've obviously taken liberty with both the continuity of the comic book and the space-time continuum.  
  
Dedication: Now is for Joe. Then is for Ed.  
  
Acknowledgement: Rob Halford for the title and inspiration.  
  
Sad Wings of Destiny  
  
By  
  
TheMack  
  
NOW:  
  
Logan woke up with a start. He pushed the sweat-soaked bed sheets off of himself and sat up. He rubbed his eyes. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was half past five in the morning. There was nothing special about the dream he'd been having. It wasn't a nightmare, or a pipe dream. It was more like a memory replayed within his mind as a dream. And that was what bothered him. You see the problem with memory is that you never quite remember all the things you want to remember, and you never quite forget all the things you want to forget. Logan got up and walked to the window and stared out. The sky was just beginning to show signs of the impending dawn. He glanced back at his bed. The memory was of something that took place just before he joined the X-Men. It was of something that took place during his days as Canada's premier secret agent, Weapon X. Logan shook his head and rubbed the remnants of sleep from his face. He pulled on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and his  
boots. He grabbed some cigars and headed downstairs to find a bottle of hard alcohol.  
  
THEN:  
  
Logan surveyed the small military base with his binoculars. Even though it was in the middle of the night, his heightened animal senses made night vision equipment unnecessary. He growled softly. He hated the Amazon jungle. It was too hot, too humid and had way too many insects for his liking. The base was situated in a clearing within the jungle. There was only one dirt road leading to the entrance of the encampment. The base itself consisted of two barracks, a mess hall, a small armory, a fuel depot, a few jeeps, and a small cabin that seemed to serve as the command center for the base. For once the intelligence he had been given in the mission briefing had been accurate. One of Canada's largest mining companies had just been awarded a contract by the Peruvian government to begin mining operations on one of the largest copper deposits in all of Peru. They were just beginning to set up their operations when they started to receive threats from the Maoist terrorist group  
Shining Path. Shining Path swore that they would destroy any attempt "by capitalists to rape Peru of the natural resources that rightfully belong to its people". Peru's military promised to guarantee the safety of all those involved in the mining operations, but a rash of terrorist attacks on police stations, churches, schools, and local government officials called into question the ability of Peru's military to deliver on that promise. In addition, tensions were rising between Peru and Ecuador, and it seemed that Peru's military would soon have its attentions diverted elsewhere. With millions of dollars and the lives of many Canadians and Peruvians at stake, the Canadian Government decided to send its own message to Shining Path. Their message would be delivered by Weapon X. Logan put the binoculars back into his backpack and made his way towards the base.  
  
NOW:  
  
Logan grabbed a bottle of Bell's Scotch Whiskey from the small liquor cabinet that the professor kept hidden in the den and headed outside. He headed towards the lake. There was a large oak tree not too far from the boathouse that he was particularly fond of. He lit a cigar and opened the bottle of whiskey. He sat down beneath the tree and leaned up against its trunk. He took a long drag from his cigar and exhaled slowly. He then took a large swig from the bottle and relished the burning sensation that traveled down his throat. The sun was starting to rise over the horizon and touches of red were beginning to invade the light blue sky, an event that was being reflected by the lake before him. An eerie, soft breeze began to blow and disrupt the gentle stillness of the new morning, as if old ghosts had come to say hello. Memories were like ghosts: some faded away with the passage of time, others would always be there to haunt you. You couldn't fight them. How could you?  
Memories are a part of you. So when they come by to say hello, all you can do is raise a toast in their honor and welcome them back. Logan took another drink from his bottle. It had been a while since he had thought about Peru and what had happened back then.  
  
THEN:  
  
Entering the base had been easy. The usual trip wire booby traps had been around the perimeter, but for a seasoned veteran like Logan, they were easy to circumvent. Logan had entered the base near the armory and headed towards it. His jungle fatigues provided perfect camouflage in the dense undergrowth of the forest. As he entered the clearing, he dropped down to crawl on his stomach to avoid being seen. Even though it was night, and pitch black, he wasn't going to take any chances on being discovered before he wanted to be discovered. He reached the back of the building and stood up. He began to silently make his way towards the front of the building. He stopped and sniffed the air. There was only one guard in front who was pacing back and forth, more than likely just to keep awake. Logan stood at the corner to the front of the building, listening carefully. When it sounded like the guard was walking away from his position, he quickly stole a glance around the corner of the  
Armory to see what was waiting for him. As expected there was only one guard, armed with an AK-47 slung carelessly over one shoulder. A single 100-Watt light bulb over the doorway to the Armory was the only immediate source of light. Logan ducked back behind the corner of the Armory and crouched, silently waiting for the guard to make his way back towards him. Sensitive hearing alerted him to the impending arrival of the guard to his corner. When he judged the guard to be close enough, Weapon X attacked. With incredible speed, Logan jumped out and lunged towards the guard. His left hand reached out and grabbed the barrel of the guard's rifle and pushed it away so that he was out of its line of fire. His claws sprang out from his right hand and in one swift blow he cut the guard's head off, then retracted his claws and grabbed a fistful of the dead guard's clothes with his right hand to prevent the body from falling to the ground. His left hand relinquished its grasp on the  
assault rifle, reached out and caught the guard's head before it hit the ground. The guard had been eliminated without the noise of a body falling to the ground to alert anybody. Logan leaned the body against the wall of the armory, using the dead man's assault rifle as prop to keep the body upright. He then placed the severed head back on the bloody stump of the dead man's neck. Logan entered the armory. If anyone were to glance over at the armory from outside, they would see a guard leaning up against the wall. He removed his backpack and opened it. Within moments he was setting plastic explosives.  
  
NOW:  
  
The sky was now completely ablaze in brilliant colors of red and yellow. Logan crushed the remnants of his cigar against a protruding tree root and tossed it into the lake. His bottle was half empty. That was a problem. By the time he finished this bottle the others would be up and about, preventing him from getting another one. The sound of someone jogging interrupted Logan from his thoughts. Logan knew that it was Jean Grey. Only Red went jogging this early in the morning. She was headed his way. The last thing he wanted was to talk to her. Maybe she wouldn't notice him. Of course, her being a telepath negated any possibility of that. Logan resigned himself to the inevitable as Jean approached ever closer.  
  
"Wolverine, what are you doing out here this early?"  
  
Logan looked up. Jean was standing just beyond the oak tree, and breathing heavily, sweat dripping off of her body, her t-shirt and shorts clinging tightly to her body.  
  
"Just watchin' the sun rise, Red."  
  
"Isn't it a little early to be drinking?"  
  
"How do ya know it's up early drinkin' an' not out late drinkin'?"  
  
"Because you have only one bottle with you."  
  
"I think you're getting' to know me to well, Red. Pretty Boy ain't gonna like that."  
  
"He's not here to complain, now is he?"  
  
Logan grinned and shook his head. He returned his attention to the sunrise. Jean sat down next to him.  
  
"So what's up, Wolvie?"  
  
Logan scowled. He still hadn't gotten used to the nickname she had given him.  
  
"Just talkin' to some ghosts, Red. Nothin' ta concern you."  
  
"What kind of ghosts?"  
  
"Ghosts from the past, Darlin'. Ghosts from the past."  
  
Jean wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but she knew that he probably wouldn't tell her. Wolverine was the most private man she had ever met. And despite her telepathic abilities, she usually had absolutely no idea as to what he was thinking. He, on the other hand, seemed to have an uncanny ability to discern what was on her mind, and to push her buttons while he was at it. She briefly considered returning to her morning run, but decided against it.  
  
THEN:  
  
Logan had made his way to the barracks, undetected. He had two blocks of C4 left. He positioned himself in between the barracks. He threw one block of C4 into each of the barracks through their windows. The sound of broken glass, and pandemonium shattered the stillness of the night. Logan dove under a nearby jeep, pulled out the detonator, and triggered the switch. The explosions were deafening. The armory disappeared, engulfed in a giant sphere of fire spitting out flaming debris. Secondary explosions rumbled within the sphere as the weapons once housed ceased to exist. The sphere grew larger and engulfed the nearby fuel depot. The addition of fuel sent the sphere rocketing through the sky and a cloud of fire now lit up the night sky. The barracks no longer stood. Both had collapsed in their centers and were now ablaze. A few men emerged from the debris. Blood streaming from the eyes and ears of some, others more seriously injured. The sound of small arms fire erupted  
through the din as armed men fired wildly in the night. Weapon X crawled out from under the jeep. Claws sprang from the back of his hands. A snarl escaped from his lips. It was time to clean up. And the fun was just about to begin.  
  
NOW:  
  
"What's bothering you, Wolvie?"  
  
Logan shot a dirty look in response to the unwanted question.  
  
"You know I'm not going to leave you alone until you tell me."  
  
The stubborn look in Jean Grey's eyes affirmed that she meant to keep her word. She was an interesting girl, this Jean Grey. Her outward appearance and behavior was that of a spoiled, pretty-girl. But she was tough as nails on the inside. In some ways she reminded Logan of another redhead he knew in Canada that went by the name of Heather Hudson. Logan shook his head.  
  
"You're a pistol an' a firecracker, Darlin'."  
  
"So are you going to tell me what's bothering you or not?"  
  
Logan studied the expression on Jean's face. He knew it well, for he often wore it himself. He considered blowing her off. It would be easy. All he had to do was get up and go back to the mansion. But he hadn't finished his scotch, the sun was still rising, and he had nothing better to do.  
  
THEN:  
  
The survivors from the barracks were mercifully cut down quickly. Bullets began to fly by Weapon X's head. He had been spotted, and the once wild gunfire was now directed towards him. Weapon X dropped to the ground. The shots were coming from the direction of the mess hall. He rolled away from his previous position and sprang up. With unbelievable speed he lunged towards the mess hall. Even before the gunmen could react, their fate was sealed. Weapon X slashed the assault rifle out of the arms of the first gunman with the claws of his left hand and split his chest wide open with an upper cut from his right. He attacked the second gunman before the first had even hit the ground. The second gunman went down when a crushing spinning crescent kick landed on his collarbone, knocking him off of his feet. He died when the left forearm of Weapon X crushed his windpipe as he fell. As the second gunman fell, Weapon X reached back behind his backpack, drew a throwing knife, spun  
around, and threw it at the man standing behind him. The knife struck him in the forehead. Weapon X once again dropped to the ground. He rolled, grabbed the assault rifle of one of the dead men, and sprang back up firing. Four more gunmen fell dead. Weapon X looked around. He couldn't see any more men, but he could smell them. There were still some left inside the mess hall. He glanced down. Two of the dead men lying at his feet had grenades strapped to their belts. Seconds later, the mess hall crumbled to the ground. Weapon X glanced around. He couldn't sense any more terrorists. The sound of burning flames was all he heard. He spent the next several minutes checking what was left of the base and burning ruble to confirm his solitude in the jungle. He made his way over to the small cabin. This base was just one of many. Whatever intelligence he gathered here could aid in future operations against Shining Path, should they be needed. He entered the cabin and rifled through  
the desk and file cabinets. He gathered up whatever maps, documents and disks he could find. He stuffed them in his backpack. He stepped back out of the cabin. As he did, his heightened senses alerted him to them danger. Someone was behind him; someone that he had missed in his earlier sweep through the base. Logan didn't think. He just reacted. His claws sprang out as he spun around. A dead woman fell to the ground moments later.  
  
NOW:  
  
"It wasn't that I'd just killed a woman that bothered me. She was part of a group that killed plenty o' innocents in their time. She chose her path. She got what she deserved. She an' all the other assholes in that base. What bothered me was that she was pregnant. See Red, that kid had a whole mess o' tomorrows comin' for it. An' that bitch took `em away. An' made me a part o' it. The kicker is, is that both sides think that they're in the right. Ya know? So we duke it out, the innocents pay the price, an' things get more fucked up than they were before. `Cause nothin' got solved. You still hate them, they still hate you, an' the battle rages on. Then ya get ta thinkin' that maybe there's another way. But there ain't. It's a never endin' cycle, Red. The wheel keeps turnin'. If it ain't fascists, it's commies. If it ain't commies, it's religious fundamentalists. Then ya wonder what the hell did we do to get wrapped up in this shit? Why is everythin' so fucked up in this  
world? See, when the wheel turns, the innocent get crushed underneath it. Then somethin' happens an' ya see that your hand was on the crank that turns the wheel this whole time. An' you were so wrapped up in your own world, ya didn't even know it."  
  
Logan swallowed the last of the scotch. He got up. The sun had completely risen and the brilliant colors that had just danced in the sky moments ago had retreated leaving a serene light blue hue in their wake. Jean watched Logan wordlessly. Logan turned and looked at Jean.  
  
"Did ya ever go to church, Red?"  
  
Jean was taken aback. She never expected Logan to ask her or anyone else that question. He didn't seem to be to concerned with religious issues.  
  
"I used to go when I was little. But I haven't had much chance to go since I've been here with the X-Men."  
  
Logan nodded. He looked away for a brief moment before turning his gaze back to Jean.  
  
"In church they tell ya that the Devil an' all them demons were angels once. That they fell from heaven an' became evil. That ain't the whole story. Ya see Red, some o' them fallen angels didn't become demons. See, unlike the others they remember that they were once angels. That they were once things o' beauty who tried to do right. But, ya see they also know why they fell from Heaven. They know why they rebelled. An' they can't forget why they did it. So they can't go back to Heaven, but they haven't fallen far enough to go to Hell. So there they are trapped between redemption and damnation. Cursed to search the world for that which they will never find, blessed wit' the hope that they will one day find it. An' on they go all alone on the road to nowhere wit' nothin' but their sad wings of destiny to guide them an' keep `em company."  
  
Logan turned and started to head back towards the mansion. Jean sat transfixed to the ground. All she could do was watch Logan walk away, his shoulders hunched over as if he were carrying some great weight. A sad smile began to form on her lips. If Logan didn't find what he was looking for with the X-Men, then he would one day leave. Jean Grey got up and started to head back to the mansion, following Logan's footsteps. All she could do was help him find what he was looking for. And pray that he didn't find it too quickly.  
  
**************  
  
"Who can say they've never made mistakes?  
  
Only fools will suffer what they make  
  
Owning up rids poison when you can  
  
Admitting you were wrong makes you a man  
  
It's every where  
  
But do you care?  
  
Sad wings of destiny,  
  
Where have they gone?  
  
I know eternally  
  
I'll carry on.  
  
Did you think that I would disappear?  
  
Were you so dried up from all your fear?  
  
Thought you'd make me feel impossible  
  
You were wrong now who looks like the fool?  
  
It's up to you,  
  
What did you do?  
  
Sad wings of destiny  
  
It used to burn.  
  
I know that faithfully  
  
I'll see you turn.  
  
It's everywhere  
  
But do you care  
  
Sad wings of destiny,  
  
Where have they gone?  
  
I know eternally  
  
I'll carry on.  
  
Sad wings of destiny  
  
It used to burn.  
  
I know that faithfully  
  
I'll see you turn.  
  
Sad wings of destiny" - Rob Halford 


End file.
